


Siberia

by Princessleia9977



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Child Abuse, Daughters, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hydra (Marvel), Parent Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Siberia, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, hydra is cruel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princessleia9977/pseuds/Princessleia9977
Summary: She is a child of winter, with ice in her blood and steel in her bones. She will not die today, nor tomorrow. She will survive and she will do it fighting.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Siberia

His eyes are cold— ice blue and lifeless. Much like the cold, barren wasteland that stretches as far as the eye can see from either direction. It is a prison of snow and ice from which no one can escape— not that anyone would dare try. Not with Vasily Karpov watching them like a tiger on the prowl, hungry and emaciated; waiting.

_Waiting for her to fail._

It was a miracle that she had survived this long. Not after so many of her brothers and sisters had perished at the Soldier’s hand. Karpov was not a merciful man and the Soldier was obedient— a dangerous and fatal combination that had seen many of her siblings to their snowy graves in the unforgiving terrain.

_The bitter land that she was born to. The land that had swallowed her brothers and sisters whole, never to return them. The Siberian wilderness held many secrets; some of them more recent than others._

And if she was not careful, she would soon join them.

 _“Do not show mercy,”_ his words echo in her mind, refusing to be quieted. She can almost see the sadistic glint in his eyes from where she stands despite the harsh lines that make up his features. He stands before them, shoulders straight with his arms behind his back. An outsider might think him imposing— _even intimidating,_ but she knows better. He is neither of those things.

Vasily Karpov is a rat. He is small and weak. The only true power that he wielded was in the man who stood next to him. The one with ice in his eyes and blood on his hands.

_They called him Winter, for he is colder than the night and deadlier than the ice. He is the embodiment of Mother Russia; unforgiving and unyielding._

_And he is Karpov’s guard dog._

According to the others, he is a weapon. A machine to be deployed at Hydra’s digression. But when Katya looks at him, she does not see a weapon or a machine. She sees a dead man walking.

_She isn’t sure which scares her more._

The fight had been brutal. It had been emotional.

What else did one expect when sisters were forced to fight to the death?

Katya listened to Karpov— had taken his words to heart. She had fought fiercely, giving it all that she had and then some. But it hadn’t been enough. It never was. 

_She had failed and there was no room for failure in Hydra._

She knew what was about to happen. Even as the others cheered for her sister— cheered for her victory, Katya knew that secretly they were just glad it wasn’t them about to die. Glad that they hadn’t failed as she had. Glad that they had more time, even if it was only one day.

_It was one day longer than she would have._

Karpov clapped, the sound echoing through the walls of the compound. Slow and mockingly, he let his thoughts on the match be known.

“Good. Very good, Irina,” he said to the victor, his Russian accent thick. He did not miss a beat. “Now, you know what must be done.”

Irina’s grip on Katya’s throat tightened, her nails digging into her pale flesh.

Katya stared up at her sister. She neither begged nor pleaded as she knew it was useless to do so. Whatever happened next, it would be by Irina’s hand. There was no escaping it.

Katya closed her eyes as she waited for the final blow, her hands falling from Irina’s hands which were firmly clasped around her throat. She was resigned to her fate.

But the final blow never came.

Slowly, Katya opened her eyes, willing the tears of defeat away as her gaze settled on Karpov. He held his hand out, rendering Irina still as his gaze danced between the two girls, a wicked grin on his face.

_“Wait.”_

Katya blinked in surprise.

“Comrade?” came Irina’s voice, strained. Everyone had gone silent by then, cautiously waiting for whatever it was that the man had in store.

No one dared move.

“Soldat,” he said as Katya’s eyes widened. He turned to address the Soldier. “Finish her.”

The words kept reverberating through her mind, echoing. It was a ruthless command— one the Soldier would not hesitate to execute.

Irina’s grip around her neck lessened, her touch nothing more than a memory as she backed away from Katya, leaving her there as a sacrificial lamb.

The Soldier stalked silently towards her, his boots carrying him closer to her. His actions were unerringly methodical— as if on autopilot. She was his mission and if there was one thing the Soldier was renowned for, it was completing the mission.

_No matter the cost._

She didn’t even try to fight him as he wrapped his metal hand around her throat.

 _Finish her,_ the words linger in her head, like a cold December morning. His grip on her throat tightens, and still, she does not resist him. Even through the pain, she finds it within her to stare him down, hazel meeting ice blue eyes.

_Tell him._

_Tell him who you are._

She knows it’s a futile attempt at survival. There is no guarantee that he will understand, but she has to try. If she doesn’t risk it, then it will all be over. She will die.

_And the Siberian wilderness will hold yet another secret._

“P—please,” she says, hoarsely. Her words muffled and pained.

His grip does not lessen. She is running out of air— and time.

“I’m— I’m your d— daughter.”

Katya had not known at the time what sort of reaction he would have to hearing those words, but the result is instantaneous. His eyes widen and for the first time, gone is the lifeless veil that she had spent so many years gazing into. Instead, something else takes over. Something all too human.

As if her skin had turned to fire beneath his metal grip, he let go of her.

Sputtering and coughing, she scoots away from him on bloodied hands and knees as everyone watches, their gazes penetrating. She knows what they are thinking. She has broken the rules by saying the words aloud. She wasn’t supposed to do that. None of them were.

“Soldat,” said Karpov, breaking his silence to assess the situation. “Status.”

The Soldier stares down at his hands, something akin to horror in his eyes as he quietly utters the word _daughter_ in perfect English— not Russian. His voice is soft, but there is an underlying accent there. It is American.

“Soldat,” says Karpov, already losing his patience. He grits his teeth as Katya watches the scene unfold in mute horror. “Status.”

“I—” he begins, finally looking at Katya and then at Karpov, like a dog caught between two masters. “I appear to be— _malfunctioning._ ”

She can see the confusion in his eyes and she knows that her words have struck a chord.

“We can take care of that,” replies Karpov before adding; “but first, you must complete your mission. Finish her,” he said, pointing towards the girl on the floor.

The Soldier looks at her, pain in his eyes. She can see the confusion and the desperation there and she knows. She knows that he will not attack her.

_Longing_

She is yanked to her feet.

_Rusted_

She can see the anger in Karpov’s eyes. She can feel his rage. And she knows she will suffer for it.

_Seventeen_

The Soldier stares at her. Not through her, but at her— as if he is truly seeing her for the first time.

_Daybreak_

Arms wrapped tightly around her; holding her in place.

_Furnace_

The Soldier shudders. There is conflict in his eyes.

_Nine_

They begin to lead her away.

_Benign_

She struggles against their grip. Not that it does any good.

_Homecoming_

It is the last word that Katya hears as she is dragged down the hallway, kicking and screaming. She knows that her begging would not do her any good, but she does it anyway.

_Please please please_

The wind cut at her skin like a thousand little knives, leaving her breathless and cold as they lead her out into the tundra. The Siberian wilderness is a wasteland of ice and snow. They call this place Mother Russia and yet out here, nothing can survive. This land may have given her birth, but there is nothing nurturing about Mother Russia. She is cold and bitter— and her children know this.

Her blood stains the snow red.

They don’t bother to check is she is dead or not as they begin to walk away, leaving her to succumb to her fate as the snow begins to fall around her, sticking in the dark halo of her hair like a thousand little stars in the night.

She can hear the Soldier screaming, even from where she lays in the red snow. She can almost feel his pain— or is it her own?

Every breath is agony.

It hurts so much.

She knows that if the bullet does not kill her, the cold will.

But Katya is not ready to join her siblings in their icy graves.

She is a child of Russia. Her mother may not be nurturing or kind, but if there is one thing that the Motherland has taught her children, it is how to survive.

She is a child of winter, with ice in her blood and steel in her bones. She will not die today, nor tomorrow. She will survive and she will do it fighting.

They return that night to bury her body, but the spot where they had left her to succumb to her injuries is empty. A fresh layer of snow covers the land, burying her footprints.

The Siberian wilderness may hold many secrets, but she is not one of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading


End file.
